


Sunshine on mountains

by Jim the Viking (JamesMcMullen)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, although this is mostly PG there's definitely some pastry-based innuendo in there, god help me, they're just so damn sweet together I couldn't help it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesMcMullen/pseuds/Jim%20the%20Viking
Summary: Dedue had never expected someone to love him, not after the Tragedy of Duscur.Mercedes had never expected someone so deserving of being loved to doubt it so much.Sylvain? He had never expected to be in mortal peril just because he suggested that someone had a crush on someone else.
Relationships: Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Sylvain entered the medical tent hesitantly, as if he weren't sure what, exactly, he was supposed to do. His armour was still streaked with ash and mud from the battlefield, and his face was so pale that Mercedes' thought the blood at his waist must be at least partly his.

Dedue shifted at her side, the freshly healed wound under his arm a bright white against his skin.

"You should be careful, Dedue," she admonished, adjusting a pillow behind his back. "I don't want you to open that wound up again."

"I will be fine, Mercedes," he replied, wincing as he sat back. "It was just a minor injury, and you have done admirable work."

She smiled and slipped another pillow behind his head. "Thank you, but it was only minor because it missed your lung. And it only missed your lung because you're very, very lucky."

Dedue's retort was cut short as Sylvain neared the bed. The younger man looked nervously from Dedue to Mercedes and back. "How are you?" he asked after a moment.

"I am unharmed," Dedue replied. "Thank you for visiting me."

She could see the stress evaporate from the young man's shoulders and some of the colour return to his face. "You did a very good job in bringing him back, Sylvain."

He turned to face her and smiled sadly. "He got hurt because of me, Mercedes. I'm just glad he's okay." He knelt beside the bed and winced.

The blood on his faulds was definitely his. "Sylvain, you're-"

He waved her off and put a hand on Dedue's arm. "Are you sure you're okay, Dedue? I didn't mean to-"

"Sylvain," the larger man said, sitting upright. "You were surprised and surrounded. As your classmate, it was my duty to protect you. You would have done the same for me, were our positions reversed."

"Besides," Mercedes said cheerfully, "you managed to carry him out of there! Manuela said that if you weren't as quick as you had been, it could have been much worse."

Sylvain looked at her, stricken.

"Don't worry, Sylvain! Manuela and I made sure that he's going to be perfectly fine. Now," she added, looking pointedly at the blood seeping between the bands of his faulds. "Let's get you looked at. I'm sure that Ingrid would be furious with you if you wound up with an infection."

He struggled to his feet and smiled wanly. "Yeah, she always gets upset when she finds out I have one."

Dedue shook his head. "Sylvain."

* * *

The infirmary was quiet. Dedue was, as he preferred, the last person to be seen. He nodded a greeting to Felix and the younger man scowled in response.

 _Understandable_. After all, Felix sought victory on the battlefield like other men sought lovers, and Death was always at Victory's heels. Even Dedue, a rabid dog, a sword and shield, knew that. And Felix seemed to welcome Victory's lover like an old friend. Dedue would not soon forget the look in Felix’s eyes when he had pulled him from the melee, but if it were ever a choice between Felix's death in victory and the chance that his Highness would one day reconcile with his childhood friend, Dedue would be able to live with young man's disappointment, no matter how pointed it might be.

Not that it mattered much. He was doomed to be forever distrusted because of that day four years ago, and he’d come to terms with that.

Mercedes beckoned him forward. She was smiling at him, sweetly as ever, despite the blood spatters on her face and smock. She was always smiling at him.

"Dedue! I'm not surprised to see you here. Felix said you were very brave today!"

She was, without fail, a ray of sunshine. He felt his cheeks flush and offered her a small smile. "I was merely doing my duty.”

She motioned for him to sit at a small table. "You're always thinking of other people. It's such an admirable quality, but it puts you in so much danger sometimes."

He sat, and gingerly pulled the remains of his tunic over his head. The wounds were superficial, hardly worth bothering with, but he knew that Mercedes would chastise him if he didn't let her attend to them. This was an ordeal he would happily endure.

Mercedes gave a small gasp as she saw the wounds on his chest. They looked worse than they were, but her concern was touching nonetheless. He folded the bloody tunic neatly on the floor beside the stool. "I am sorry that you have to tend to me again.”

"I don't mind.” She gingerly probed the cut above his hip. "I was just... surprised at how many there are."

"It was a fierce battle," he said simply "Many were injured worse than I was. Had Ingrid and Sylvain not found me, I would not have been able to save Felix. I am glad that they were able to pull him away from the situation. He did an admirable job before we rescued him, though. You should tell him."

"Or maybe," she said, holding her hand to a loose flap of skin, "you could tell him? It would mean more coming from you, after all."

He grimaced as her magic knit the flesh together, burning away any sign of infection with its soft green glow. "I disagree. Felix hates the men of Duscur for what we did to his brother, and to His Highness' father. I do not blame him. I cannot redeem my people by my sole actions."

"That's not true," Mercedes’ hand moved slowly up his chest. "You're not trying to redeem your people, anyway, are you? You're just being... you."

"And I am a man of Duscur." He shrugged and winced as the wound on his upper arm opened again. He could feel the blood trickling down his arm, but did his best to ignore it.

"And what does that have to do with anything? I find Duscur fascinating, and maybe the others might, too! Do you remember telling me about your gods when we were in the cathedral? That was so interesting! I wish I could know more about your people. And you."

He nodded and considered her words as her magic continued to close up his wound. Her hand hesitated, low on his abdomen. He was suddenly aware of the lightness of her touch. "Is there... something wrong?"

She looked at him, frowning. He had never seen her frown before. "You really should be more careful," she said. "If this were on the battlefield, I wouldn’t be able help you any further. My magic is exhausted and we still need to tend to the wound on your arm."

Dedue said nothing as she moved to the table and got her equipment ready. The sting of the cleansing fluid made him flinch, barely, as she began stitching the gash on his bicep closed. "I was being careful," he said.

"Not careful enough," she retorted. He could still hear the frown in her voice. "You put yourself in harm's way too easily."

"It is my responsibility to my classmates and to His Highness. If I can put my body between theirs and harm, then I will."

"Well," she said, as she snipped the end of the knot, "it scares me when you do that. You could get seriously hurt, you know, and one of these days I might not be able to help you. Where would that leave Dimitri? Or the Professor?"

He considered that for a moment, and nodded. "Yes, they would be devastated." He was, after all, His Highness' sword and shield, and the anvil that the Professor's hammer relied on in battle.

"And they're not the only ones who would be," she said softly.

Dedue turned to face her, but she turned him back. "Not yet," she said almost sternly. "You can look at me when I've finished here."

Her voice was almost mocking, but it was different, somehow. Almost flirtatious. But that could not be the case.

"Mercedes," he began, settling back to face the entrance to the medical tent.

She made a shushing sound as she wrapped his arm in a bandage. "You have so many friends here, Dedue! You just need to let yourself know that they care about you."

Dedue considered her words for a heartbeat, and then shook his head. "It would do well for them to not get too close to me. As a man of Duscur, I can bring only pain and sadness to people."

"You don't make me sad," she said, with a giggle. "Just the opposite, in fact! I like talking with you. I just wish we could do it when I wasn't fixing your wounds."

"Mercedes... I would not wish to inflict myself on you unnecessarily."

"Inflict...?" She laughed, and he couldn't quite suppress a smile at the sound of it. "You're so silly, Dedue. Being with you is a pleasure!"

He stiffened as he felt her hair brush his shoulder and the sudden warmth of her lips on his cheek. "More people than Dimitri and the Professor care about you, Dedue."

Her voice was quiet yet filled his head like thunder.

"Mercedes," he said, his voice suddenly soft.

She laughed and began wrapping his arm with a bandage. "Is there something wrong, Dedue?"

He shook his head, his cheeks burning. "No, nothing at all."

* * *

"Sylvain."

The voice came from out of nowhere. Sylvain spun around, looking for the source.

"Who's there?" His hand drifted to the hilt of his uniform sword. "Listen, if this is about the girl at the tea shop, I-"

Dedue stepped out of the shadows and Sylvain heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, Dedue, it's you. What can I do for you?"

"I... need your advice on a matter."

If he hadn’t known better, Sylvain would have sworn Dedue sounded embarrassed. This would be good. "Advice? From me? Well that can only mean one thing! Who's the lucky lady?"

Dedue hesitated and shook his head. "Never mind. In retrospect, this was a terrible idea. Please, forget I asked you for anything."

Sylvain smiled broadly and approached the taller man. "Oh no, my friend," he said as he rested his hand on Dedue's shoulder. "You asked for my help with a lady, and I would never ignore such a request."

Dedue sternly plucked Sylvain’s hand from his shoulder. "I was not requesting that you forget I asked you for advice. I was telling you to. Good day."

Sylvain stared at Dedue as he made his way back to the dormitories.

He definitely needed to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Mercedes watched Dedue as he formed the delicate sweets. It was incredible how delicately he handled the pastry. His hands, huge and calloused and scarred, were not the kind that you would think could cut intricate patterns with a paring knife, and yet there were two dozen perfectly formed sweets cooling on a rack that said otherwise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but Mercedes couldn't help notice a faint smile on his lips, and the way he shot quick glances at her every time he repeated the folds for the jelly to sit in.

"You're doing wonderful, Dedue!" she said as she stirred a small pot of icing. "Are you sure you've never made these before?"

"This is my first attempt at any dessert," he said, almost sheepishly. "We do not normally bake sweets in Duscur. We have fruit and honey and bread after meals. And khalfe, of course."

She cocked her head at that. He had mentioned it before, but always in passing. "You've said that word a few times now. What is it?"

He set down the sweet and looked at her with unexpected shyness. "It is... a beverage of Duscur. A sort of tea. Tea bushes do not grow on the mountains, but the khalfe tree does. We take the seeds of its fruit, roast them, grind them, and boil the powder in water. It is very strong, very dark, and many people in the Kingdom consider it bitter. A barbarian's drink."

She shook her head and handed him the icing. "Well, I think it sounds interesting! I bet it would go well with these sweets, in fact. If you have some, I would love to try it one day."

His eyes widened as he took the bowl from her hands. "Perhaps... the next time we have a moment alone together, I can make some for you? On our next free day?"

Mercedes beamed and nodded quickly. "That sounds fantastic! It's a date!"

She couldn't help but laugh as he dropped the spoon into the icing, splashing it over the table.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set behind the monastery's walls, and Sylvain was on a mission. He had to find out who this mystery woman of Dedue’s was, and neither Dimitri nor the Professor had any idea what he was talking about. In fact, Dimitri had laughed in his face and the Professor had just shrugged and looked away. If he hadn’t known for a fact that she was sleeping with Claude, he would have suspected her. Having his quarters directly above hers definitely had its advantages when it came to knowing about things in advance. It also had its disadvantages when it came to getting a full night’s sleep.

There was only one person left who he could turn to, and that was Mercedes. Ingrid had told him to forget about it, and nearly broke his jaw when he insisted that it was a matter of national security to find out who had managed to seduce the King's bodyguard. Felix was more interested, if only to make sure that the woman, whoever she was, knew that Dedue was somehow both a pathetic lapdog and rabid beast ready to harm anyone who got close.

Sylvain knew Felix well enough to hear the half-heartedness in his words, though. His sharp comments had lost their edge when Dedue stepped in front of an axe for him two months ago.

He hopped down the last few stairs as he neared the lower dormitories and checked his reflection in the small pocket mirror he always carried. Hair stylishly tousled, shirt unbuttoned just enough to make her imagination run wild, charming-and-yet-not-too-roguish grin... he was as ready as he'd ever be for getting a lady to tell him what he wanted to hear.

He knocked on Mercedes' door and cleared his throat.

She opened the door a crack, already in her dressing gown. He put on The Grin and hoped for the best.

"Mercedes! I was hoping I could ask you a question," he said as did his best to keep his eyes on hers. It was difficult not to let his eyes wander; she was beautiful, absolutely, and her dressing gown left almost nothing to the imagination. And he had a _very_ active imagination. But this was Mercedes he was thinking about. She was like everyone’s ideal mother at the monastery.

Not that a lady being someone’s mother had ever stopped him before.

But this was _Mercedes_.

"Of course, Sylvain! Please, come on in! I was just relaxing and doing some reading."

Sylvain grinned and bowed before following her into her room. She motioned for him to sit on the bed while she took the chair. "Please, make yourself comfortable! How can I help you?

He sat and looked around her room. It was almost exactly as he’d expected - books on sorcery, icons of the Goddess, Seiros Apologetics, travelogues, and cookbooks. "Well," he said after a moment. "I need your help with something. It's about a girl."

He didn't think it was possible, but she perked up even further. "Oh my! A girl! Who is she? Is it Ingrid? I'm so happy for you two!"

Sylvain's eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. "Ingrid? No, oh goddess no, I wouldn't- She's not- No! No not her!"

Mercedes gave him a knowing smile. "Of course not, how could I possibly think you would be in love with your best friend who also just so happens to be beautiful and brave and smart and cares about you so much that it hurts?"

Sylvain blinked. What was she _on_ about? "No! It's not- I don't- Besides, Felix would-"

Her smile broadened. "Felix too! Oh, the three of you are so adorable together! It's certainly not conventional, but I wouldn't expect anything less from the three of you! If you wanted to know if the Church would frown on it, I don't think so. I even think one of the Saints had two partners! I could look up the scripture for-"

He shook his head in a panic. "No! Mom! I don't-"

She laughed. "Did you just call me 'mom,' Sylvain? How adorable!"

He was dumbstruck. "No! I didn't! I mean, maybe, but the point is-"

"Do you see me as a mother figure?" she asked, stifling a laugh.

Sylvain could hardly gather his thoughts. "No! Yes! Everyone does! We call you Momcedes sometimes! But that's not what I'm here for - I wanted to ask you about the girl Dedue is interested in!"

Her smile tightened slightly and she raised an eyebrow questioningly, but remained silent.

Sylvain cleared his throat and adjusted his position on the bed. "He came to me last week and asked me for advice. He didn't say what for, but what else would he come to me for? After all, everyone knows that I can make any girl fall in love with me, even if it's only for a night."

She nodded slowly, but remained silent.

"So I was wondering," he continued, a little taken back by her lack of reaction. "Since you and he have been having cooking lessons lately, if he's mentioned anyone to you. Because I am _dying_ to know, and if he's got his eye on a lady, I'm going to help him out."

She shook her head. "I couldn't tell you!" she said brightly. "But whoever it is who's caught his eye is a very lucky girl!"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he did his best to keep his most charming smile on his face. Something about the tone of her voice, though... "Oh I don't doubt it," he said as he stood up. "If you do find anything out, would you tell me though?"

“I absolutely will.” She stood and led him to the door. "I'm curious as to who she is, too!"

The door locked behind him and Sylvain paused.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

* * *

Sylvain was making his way toward the upper dormitory stairs as Dedue descended to the lower level. Dedue sighed in relief when it became evident that Sylvain hadn’t seen him. It would be... awkward if he asked why he was carrying a bag of cooking equipment to Mercedes’ room.

As the young man disappeared into the stairwell, Dedue knocked on Mercedes' door. She took a moment to open it, and he blushed. Her hair was in disarray and her dressing gown was slightly askew. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Ah, hello Mercedes," he said after a moment. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to catch you as you were changing. I have brought the khalfe equipment, if you would still be interested."

"Oh, it's okay, Dedue," she replied, smiling. There was something off about it, though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Sylvain was just here, and I lost track of time! Do you mind waiting for me while I finish getting changed?"

Dedue stood a bit stiffer. "Sylvain? Oh, of course. I will wait for you out here."

She kept the smile as she closed the door.

He leaned against the sun-warm stones of the dormitory, and frowned. Sylvain? In Mercedes' room? And her appearing disheveled as she did? He must have misread the situation earlier between the two of them. Hardly surprising. He was of Duscur. A murderer and traitor by association. Of course she would be interested in a nobleman, even one as... morally dubious as Sylvain.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it but to carry on as though he was simply meeting a friend for khalfe.

She opened the door and stepped out, the same strange smile on her face. "Shall we?"

* * *

Something was wrong. They had only been in the dining hall an hour, but it felt like a hundred years.

Dedue was reserved - more than he had been in the past two months - and it felt like he had reverted to his old shield of formality with her. The way he took the khalfe powder and mixed it with the water, the precise way that he poured her a small cup of the dark, bitter brew and offered her sugar for it, it all felt as if he was simply performing a duty.

He watched her warily, his eyes were almost sad, and it was more than she could take.

"So," she said carefully, "Sylvain and I-"

"It is none of my business," he said quickly. "Your romantic life is yours alone, and I am happy that-"

She sat back, almost spilling the cup of khalfe. "My what?"

He looked at her, discomfort evident despite his best efforts to keep his face neutral. "You and Sylvain. I'm sure that, despite his... past indiscretions, he will treat you well."

She laughed and shook her head. "Oh my, no! It’s nothing like that at all, Dedue! Sylvain and I were talking about you! And his own love life; did you know that he and Ingrid and Felix are- well, I shouldn't let that get around."

His eyes narrowed. "You were talking about me?"

She nodded and took another sip of the khalfe. It was on the bitter side, but it would go well with the pastries she made. The ones he made. For her, most likely.

He waited for her to reply, sipping khlafe and watching her, but it seemed like even his patience had limits. "What did you two discuss?"

"Oh," she said, cautiously. "Well, we were talking about the lady you were asking him for advice about."

He bristled and shook his head. "I told him to forget about that."

She did her best to hide her disappointment behind another sunny smile. "Oh, so it’s true? Well, tell me about her! I promise I won't tell Sylvain. I'm sure his 'help' would only scare her off. Unless it was Ingrid or Felix. Neither of those two have a problem with hitting him when he needs it.

He shifted in his chair, lowering his eyes. Her gaze fell on the jagged line of a scar just visible under the collar of his shirt. She knew that it snaked its way down his chest, under his arm. How it rippled when he reached for anything. She pulled her attention back to his face. "Dedue? You can tell me, I won't let anyone know, I promise!"

He looked at her and offered a small smile. "I know you wouldn't, Mercedes. All I will say about her now, though, is that she is kind and loving and has a smile that shines like the sun."

"She sounds lovely, Dedue." She hoped she kept the disappointment from her voice.

He nodded and cocked his head. "She is. But you appear...saddened by this news?"

"Of course not! She's a very lucky girl to have caught your eye!"

He smiled, softly, and put his hand on hers. "I hope she thinks so."

She felt herself blush and looked away. "I... I’m certain that she does."

"Very good," he said as the third bell struck. "It is late, though. Perhaps I could walk you back to your quarters?"

She nodded and stood, offering her hand to him. "I think I would like that very much."

* * *

Sylvain was wandering the upper level of the quad, his cheek still smarting from Ingrid's slap at even suggesting Mercedes and Dedue were sleeping together, and his ears were still ringing with Felix's insults.

It wasn't his fault that it was the only reasonable explanation, given what he'd heard from Mercedes. All he needed was to get some sort of evidence, or to even just confront Dedue about it, as terrifying a prospect as that might be.

It was almost the fourth bell, though, and he had been out wandering the monastery for long enough for both Felix and Ingrid to have cooled off. He hoped. He made his way back toward the lower quad and paused as he noticed Dedue and Mercedes, walking toward her quarters from the dining hall.

Now _this_ was the juicy sort of information he needed.

He crouched behind the low barrier on the stairwell, watching the two of them. He couldn't quite make out what they were talking about, but Mercedes' hand was definitely in the crook of Dedue's arm. And his hand was definitely on hers.

Old-fashioned and gentlemanly, and exactly what Sylvain would have suggested for wooing Mercedes, had he been asked.

Wait, were they going to-

* * *

Dedue's heart was hammering in his chest as he neared Mercedes' quarters. They had chatted, pleasantly, about the silliness of their misunderstanding.

Mercedes hand fit perfectly in his. Her hair smelled of bergamot and spice. Her laugh...

By all the gods of Duscur, her _laugh_.

If he remembered nothing else of this night - not how he stood, silent and foolish, looking at her, not how she looked up at him, the moonlight shining in her eyes - he would remember her laugh.

And the sudden warmth of her head pressed against his chest.

* * *

She knew that he was nervous. It was impossible to not know. She could hear his heart racing as she leaned against him.

And she knew what she wanted.

She put her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his head down toward her. Even on her tiptoes, he was nearly too tall for her mouth to reach his.

Nearly.

* * *

Sylvain wasn't the sharpest spear on the rack, but he was bright enough to know when he shouldn't be watching something. He laid down behind the barricade and closed his eyes. A quick nap under the stars, quietly sneak back into his quarters, and then taking Dedue into town for the biggest pint that the tavern could pour him seemed like a solid plan.

* * *

Her quarters were, he reflected, probably the best place for this to have happened, if it had to happen. It shouldn't have, of course. She deserved better than a man of Duscur, but she had been... insistent. And now there was no way for him to go back and change it.

He was not certain that he wanted to, at any rate.

Mercedes lay on him, her skin hot against his, snoring softly.

He idly stroked her hair, half contemplating what he was to do now, half hoping that the moment would never end.

More than half hoping, if he was honest with himself.

She stirred and looked up at him. Her smile was radiant, even in the faint, setting moonlight.

"You're still here," she said softly. "I didn't think you'd want to stay too long."

"You were sleeping so peacefully.” He kissed her forehead. "I did not wish to wake you."

She made a small, happy sound and shifted herself, giggling as his body responded to the movement of her thighs. "Do you think you can stay here a bit longer?"

He tilted his head and looked at the waning moon. Maybe three hours until sunrise.

"I think so," he said after a moment.

She said nothing and kissed him. Her giggle at his reaction continued to ring in his ears long after he returned to quarters.

* * *

The next week was a whirlwind for Dedue. Sylvain had taken him into the town surrounding the monastery and forced a massive tankard of sour Fódlan ale into his hand with no explanation why.

He knew.

Annette smiled at him more, and was far kinder to him than she had been before.

She knew, too.

Lysithea avoided both him and Mercedes for the first day, and blushed whenever she saw them together.

He had nearly died of embarrassment when he realized _how_ she knew.

He had taken the girls aside, explaining to them that he preferred his private matters remain private. Annette swore herself to secrecy immediately, on pain of never having a sweet treat to eat again. Lysithea agreed on the condition that they keep their assignations to a respectful volume and move the bed away from the shared wall.

He helped Mercedes swap the positions of her bed and desk that evening.

Sylvain, though, had made himself scarce.

That would be a difficult conversation to have.

* * *

Mercedes knew the storm of rumours would overwhelm Dedue if she didn't tread carefully. A promise to keep quiet from Annie. A packet of sweets left at Lysithea's door. A quiet word with Ingrid and Felix to make sure that Sylvain didn't spread any rumours about something he may or may not have seen.

It was exhausting, and she knew that Dedue's direct attitude would make it hard for him to accept that he could not control everyone.

She had told Annie during a break between lectures the morning after, who in turn had nearly told the entire Blue Lion class about it before Mercedes stopped her. She almost felt bad about it, but Dedue reassured her that he didn't mind.

Lysithea's reaction embarrassed her more than anything, truth be told, and she had apologized profusely. The sweets were just the final touch to buy her silence.

Sylvain, though.

Smug, smiling Sylvain.

That would be a conversation she needed to have as soon as possible.

* * *

Sylvain sat at the river bank, idly watching the clouds pass by when he heard footsteps approach.

"You know," he said without looking at the newcomer, "if you weren't so beautiful, I would have left..." His voice trailed into silence as he turned and saw Dedue staring directly at him.

"Your commentary on my appearance notwithstanding, we need to talk."

He did not sound happy.

"Oh Dedue, don't scare the poor boy!" Mercedes' voice came from behind Dedue, and Sylvain heaved a sigh of relief. "He's just happy for us, after all."

"Hm."

Sylvain looked behind Dedue's bulk and waved at Mercedes. "Hi, Momcedes," he said sheepishly.

Dedue looked at Mercedes, confused. "Momcedes?"

"Hello, Sylvain," she said, ignoring the question. "Have you been keeping out of trouble?"

"No, he has not," Dedue said gruffly. "I do not know how you found out about us, but-"

"It was an accident!" Sylvain protested, raising his hands to show his innocence. "After you asked me for help with a lady-"

"Which never happened," Dedue interjected.

"Which never happened," Sylvain agreed hastily, "but if it did, I needed to find out who she was. So I asked His Highness and the Professor if they had any idea who might have caught your eye. He said he had no idea, and she just did that infuriating 'I know more than I can let on' shrug she does. And then I decided to ask Mercedes and she got upset-"

"I did not get upset! You were just...very insistent about the mystery girl being someone else, is all!"

"Mercedes, were you...jealous?"

"Dedue, not now."

Sylvain looked between the two of them and grinned as the idea struck him. "She absolutely was, Dedue! Just absolutely heartbroken that you could be interested in anyone else!"

Dedue looked at Sylvain, then back to Mercedes. "You were?"

She blushed and stammered a reply as he began to back away from the couple

"Wait right there, Sylvain!" Mercedes pointed directly at him. Her tone brooked no argument.

He cursed.

Dedue turned and fixed him with an icy stare.

He took an involuntary step back. "Sorry, Dedue. Sorry Mercedes. I wasn't thinking."

"That much is evident," Dedue retorted. "Now, we need to have a discussion with you."

He gulped hard. "I figured that was the case. What can I do for you?"

Mercedes smiled as she approached him. "You just need to promise us that you won't tell anyone, okay? We want to let people know on our own time."

He nodded quickly. "Absolutely! My lips are sealed, and not another soul will hear about it from me. I give you my word."

"Well," she said brightly, "That was easy!"

"Wait a moment," Dedue said as he approached Sylvain. "You said 'another soul.' Who else have you told?"

"No one!"

Dedue stared at him. “Sylvain.”

Sylvain relented. "Okay, I told Felix and Ingrid as soon as I found out. But they didn't believe me, and Ingrid just about broke my jaw for spreading rumours about you two, so I don't think you have to worry."

"Oh, they're not a problem," said Mercedes. "I spoke with them both earlier today, and they promised to keep you in check for me!"

"Mercedes, how could you?" Sylvain cried. "Why would you give them an excuse to make my life more difficult?"

"You deserve it," Dedue replied. "If you make others' lives difficult you get difficulties in return."

"Well, that's hardly fair. And it's not like I do it intentionally, you know."

"We know, Sylvain." Mercedes put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "We're not mad. We just want to keep things quiet for now, if you don't mind."

"I understand entirely. I will be the very model of discretion from now on."

"Hm. I'll believe it when I see it."

Mercedes slapped Dedue's chest playfully. "Be nice to him, Dedue. He's still young."

* * *

There was an unmistakable scent of Golab chicken in the air. It sent a flood of memories through Dedue. Home. Mother. Father. His sister.

He was, as far as he knew, the only person from Duscur at the Officer's academy, but there had to be another one here. No-one else could have had the recipe for it. Where did they find the spices, though? And the herbs? Surely they hadn't brought a cache from home?

He pushed the heavy door to the dining hall open slowly, not wanting to disturb the chef at their work. He was not prepared for what he saw when he entered, though.

Mercedes, her concentration fully on a small book, stood at the stove. She had a mountain of herbs and spices - all from Fódlan, by the looks of them - beside her. Just how she had managed to get the smell, at least, so close with such foreign herbs was a mystery he needed the answer to.

He approached her slowly, admiring her dedication to the task at hand. She was humming to herself softly. A love song from Duscur. One he hadn't heard in years.

He cleared his throat and she jumped in surprise.

"I am sorry," he said, taking a step back. "I did not mean to startle you."

"No no, it's all right. I just didn't hear you come in! I guess my surprise is ruined, though."

Dedue looked at her quizzically. "Surprise? For what?"

"Well." She looked sheepishly at him. "Here in Fódlan, people usually give the people they love a gift at the midpoint of the Pegasus Moon, but I read that in Duscur you actually have a feast for the Goddess of Love. And, well..."

"Mercedes, you do not have to-"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to! The past four months have been wonderful, and I wanted to thank you for them."

He smiled. "I know that you do. I simply meant to say that you do not have to celebrate the Feast of Love. You worship the goddess, not the gods of Duscur. She would be... displeased if you did, would she not?"

She laughed and he felt his heart skip a beat. "Oh, Dedue, you're so silly. It's not for me. It's for you! I wanted to give you the chance to feel at home."

He crossed to her and wrapped her in a tight embrace. "Thank you," he said quietly. "No-one has said that to me since that day."

She squeezed him tightly. "You can always feel safe and at home with me, Dedue. I promise."

* * *

Edelgard's attack on the monastery was a nightmare.

The Professor had fallen and Lady Rhea - the Immaculate One - had fallen with her.

Mercedes watched helplessly as Dedue waded into a group of Imperial soldiers, hacking a path to Dimitri.

Annie and Gilbert had pulled her onto a cart and raced northward, to the Kingdom.

The last she saw of Dedue, he was fighting back to back with Dimitri, the two of them pushing inexorably eastward.

There was nothing she could do.

She saw blood spurt up in a bright arc and heard Dimitri crying out in pain, and then they were through the gate, fleeing north.


	2. Chapter 2

His Highness had been freed.

It had taken Dedue months of planning, thousands of coins exchanged between him and the guards in Fhirdiad, and all of the goodwill he had built with the Duscur refugees, but he was free.

It had also cost him his life. For now, he was living on borrowed time.

He sat in his cell, uncertain as to how long it had been since he was first tossed into the lightless pit. The only things that kept his mind from shattering were the thoughts that Dimitri was wreaking his vengeance on the traitor Edelgard, and that Gilbert had honoured his wishes and taken Mercedes to a convent in Alliance territory.

The door to his cell opened, and rough hands lifted him up, dragging him to a familiar room.

The pain was excruciating. The questions always the same.

"Where did the false King go?"

His response never wavered.

"One pound flour. One pound butter. One quarter pound sugar. Two eggs. One cup of milk. Salt. A vanilla bean, scraped clean. Two spoons of leaven. Make your dough. Bake. Ice it. Fill it with jelly."

It made them angrier. More enthusiastic.

If only they knew that it was the most important information he had.

* * *

The news hit her like a mailed fist.

He was dead. Executed for treason against the Empire. For freeing Dimitri.

She wept inconsolably. The sisters at the convent were unable to comfort her, despite their best efforts.

He had died as he wanted, as she feared he would, saving his King, but the thought of him dying alone, without Dimitri near, without her hand in his, was too much.

The next five years passed in a daze, until the day Annie arrived, her father in tow, and reminded her of the promise they had made to the Professor.

* * *

You could say a lot of things about Mercedes, Sylvain thought, but she's a terrible liar.

He was the first to approach her, after they had returned to the Monastery. He was waiting by the door to her old quarters as the second evening bell rang.

"Mercedes," he began. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. About Dedue. If there's anything that I can do, just give the word, okay?"

She nodded silently.

"Are you-"

He cut his question short as she shook her head and smiled. "I'm fine, Sylvain. I promise. It's been a long time, and I've moved on. Thank you for asking, though."

He nodded and offered her a smile as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Annette gasped and grabbed Mercedes' arm. "Mercie! Is that Dedue?"

Mercedes could hardly believe her eyes. It couldn't be real, and yet there he was.

Annie was beside her, buzzing with excitement. Mercedes couldn't quite hear what she was saying, though.

He was alive. Scarred and grim-faced, but alive.

He was speaking with Dimitri, but he spared her a glace and a look of relief. She smiled at him and he returned it, albeit briefly.

There was still a battle to be fought, but she was certain he blushed.

She would have to speak with him later.

* * *

Sylvain couldn't quite believe his eyes. Dedue was alive, and he was there with them.

He looked over at Ingrid and Felix, and grinned. "Look who's back!"

Ingrid's jaw dropped in shock, and even Felix seemed taken aback.

"I thought he was…" Ingrid’s voice trailed into incredulity.

"I heard that he had been…" The words caught in Felix’ throat.

"Oh come on you two," Sylvain said as he circled his horse around them. "Do you think that a little thing like death would stop a love like theirs?"

Ingrid looked slowly from Dedue to Mercedes, and then to Sylvain. "You were right?"

Felix shook his head as if emerging from a dream. "I can't believe you weren't making that up. I never thought he would have eyes for anyone but the Boar Prince."

"One of these days, you two are going to believe me and I'll die right on the spot," he said, spurring his way past them.

* * *

The medical tent was quiet, save for the sounds of the sleeping wounded. Mercedes was washing her hands and humming to herself when she heard the tent flap open.

She knew who it was immediately, but didn't turn to face him. She continued scrubbing her hands as he approached.

"Mercedes." His voice was deeper than she remembered. Older in a way that had very little to do with the passage of time.

She turned to face him, and couldn't help but smile. "Dedue! It's so good to see you again! I had...I had heard that..."

"I know," he said. "I am sorry that I did not find you sooner."

She ignored his apology. She didn't want to think of how long he had been free and let her think that he was dead. "How did you escape?"

He paused, contemplating something, and shrugged. "My countrymen freed me, just before Cornelia's men came to execute me. They had... broken me, physically. Badly. I spent a year in Duscur recuperating before I left to find His Highness."

She nodded. She understood, of course. His duty to Dimitri would always come first. But it still hurt knowing that he had spent almost three years looking for the king without even trying to contact her.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. "I tried to write to you, but... I could not determine where you were. Every convent between Fhirdiad and Arianrhod had been burnt, and Alliance territory is riddled with Imperial spies. I couldn't risk alerting them to your location. I am sorry."

She looked at him, trying to gauge if he was lying. But of course he wasn't. He never lied to her. "I understand," she said. "I don't like it, but I know why you did it. But it hurt me, Dedue. I thought you were dead."

"I know. And it hurt me, as well. I... missed you, Mercedes."

"Really?" It was sharper than she intended, but not more than he deserved.

He seemed almost offended. "Of course I did. If it were not for you, I would not be here now. When they were... When I was captive, I refused to tell them any information about His Highness. But I did give them the recipe for your sweets. I am sorry I shared it with them, but focusing on it kept me from... Kept me from crying out."

"Oh, Dedue, I... I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "It is all right. Only my body was broken. My spirit is as strong as ever."

She nodded and gestured to the chair beside her. "You should sit down. Take off your tunic. I want to make sure that everything is all right with you."

He complied wordlessly.

His body was covered in new scars. Burn marks. Long, thin cuts. Thick ridges where a whip had broken through to the bone. And the bones themselves. She could feel poorly healed breaks in his arms and ribs. She gasped in shock at the scar along his abdomen. It was almost surgical in its precision.

"What did they do to you?"

He shook his head, and took her hand in his. "It does not bear thinking about. It was unpleasant, but I survived, and I am here now, with you."

She stared at him for a moment, and put her hand on his. She squeezed gently. "Don't ever do anything like that again, please. Don't make me think you've gone again. Promise me?"

He pulled her close, his cheek pressed against hers, the stubble prickling her skin. "I promise," he said before he kissed her.

* * *

They didn't care if anyone had heard them this time.

Five years was too long to be separated from someone you loved.

Lysithea did not make eye-contact with them for a week.

Neither of them cared.

* * *

"This is exceptional, Mercedes," Dedue said as he took another spoonful of the rich broth. "It is as good, if not better, than the ones I remember from Duscur. You have improved greatly since I last had your cooking."

Mercedes beamed as she munched on a delicately decorated biscuit. "And these sweets are fantastic, Dedue! I'm so proud of you!"

Dedue allowed himself a small smile. "I had an excellent teacher."

Mercedes blushed and leaned in to kiss him when Sylvain approached their table.

"You know, everyone knows that-"

Dedue shot him a steely glare and straightened in his seat. Sylvain cleared his throat nervously and smiled as sweetly as he could.

"Uh... everyone knows that you two were close to each other back then. And I just wanted to tell you that it's great that you're still... friends after all this time."

"Thank you, Sylvain," Dedue grated, still staring daggers. "Your appreciation is noted."

Mercedes turned to Dedue and shook her head as Sylvain retreated. "Such a sweet boy, isn't he?" she said as she watched Ingrid and Felix shout at him.

Dedue shrugged. "He is... meddlesome. He talks too much."

Mercedes beamed at Dedue and shook her head. "I don't think so! He just wants to let us know that our friends appreciate us! I think it's very sweet of him."

Dedue looked at her skeptically. "Perhaps. Though I doubt it, given Ingrid and Felix's reaction."

She laughed and patted his hand affectionately. "Well, I'm glad that was all he said. For a minute there, I was afraid he was going to say that everyone knew we've been sleeping together again!"

"Mercedes."

She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek. "I know, you're bashful still. It's okay! I think it's very cute of you!"

He blushed and turned to her, smiling. He said nothing, but pulled her close and kissed her.

Someone - Sylvain, most likely - cheered. Dedue did not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, the recipe Dedue gave is for iced and filled croustades. They're a laminated yeast dough, so if baking's your thing, you should know what to do with it!

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thanks to Smutmaker_heartbreaker for the excellent beta-ing!


End file.
